An Unexpected Destiny (Completed)

Of Chamber Pots and Combs

NOTE: Thank you all SO much for reading! I greatly appreciate it!

I knew they existed, but I never thought I would actually have to use one. I grimace at the clay pot that is now (temporarily) my personal toilet. It sits in a dark corner of the huge room that is now mine, at least, that is what the Queen has told me. She does not fully trust me, though she did keep her word.

After I had told them of my crazy journey, all three had looked at me with concern and had exchanged glances with one another that clearly said "She is mad." But mixed in with the concern was also hidden belief. The one thing they did believe was that I had told the truth. They just believed it was the truth of a madwoman. I could not expect much more; my own ears had thought I was crazy when I had been speaking of the rock and its transportation abilities.

It had been silent for a moment, as the King, Queen, and Princess studied me even more. I had looked around the room, trying not to fidget. I had never felt so criticized in my life.

Suddenly, Queen Elinor stood up and swept down the stone steps that led to the raised platform that held the thrones, her green dress speckled with golden thread swirling around her. Goodness, she was even more elegant up close. And despite being only a little taller than I, her serious face and upright bearing was intimidating. She seemed to know it too.

She circled around me; close enough that I could see the faint lines about her mouth and eyes and her dark brown eyelashes. Her gown had a long train that slid across the floor right near my boots, and her long, drooping sleeves came within centimeters of brushing the sleeve of my shirt. I felt as if her gown was to touch my boot, then all boundaries would vanish. I kept my feet so close together I could feel my inside ankles brush each other.

Queen Elinor studied me (yet again) with a critical eye, turning her head this way and that while always keeping eye contact with me. Always, except when she walked behind me: I did not dare to circle with her. That would make it easier for her gown to touch my boot or her sleeves to brush mine. She circles me two, three... four times, before asking King Fergus if he noticed anything Norse or Roman about me. King Fergus had squinted at me for longer than I was comfortable with. Though I kept my serenity, these people were experts at making one feel as if she were an artifact of a museum exhibit.

Finally, the King shook his helmed head and said "Nay, my dear, she is not a Viking, nor a Roman. There is nothing to be concerned over." Except possibly her brain, was the unspoken thought.

"Very well, Lady Agnes. You are not a spy for the Vikings nor are you an ally of the Romans," Queen Elinor asserted. I am not a Viking? That is good to know because I just wasn't sure. I mean, you never know, I could wake up one morning with long blonde hair and a dagger under my pillow.

Merida, as soon as her mother stopped speaking, hopped up from her chair to bound down the steps to me. "Come," she said, tucking her arm under mine. "I shall show you to your room." She pulled me away so quickly I could only nod my head at King Fergus and Queen Elinor and say thank you before I had to watch my step up some stairs.

Merida lead me down the torch-lit hallway to the left of the stairs.  On the right was a balcony overlooking the throne room.  I could scarcely take it all in: hides of deer and foxes stretched out on the walls in addition to various weapons.  Many narrow, wooden doors emerge between the torches several feet above the floor.  The air was chilly and smells of earth and fine things.  Our footsteps softly echoed against the stone floor.  The torches made my eyes dance until I quit looking at the flames and on my feet instead.  Merida's black slippers, which resemble modern flats, peeked out of her light blue dress as she stepped forward.  Her curly orange hair flew behind her as she walked with a brusque pace.